


Kitchen Wars

by prfctdaze



Series: Bite Sized Fics [17]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:09:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9677516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prfctdaze/pseuds/prfctdaze
Summary: Simon and Raphael hang out at Magnus's place.





	

**Author's Note:**

> livejournal comment_fic fill for the prompt "Shadowhunters, Raphael Santiago/Simon Lewis, what's in a Warlock's kitchen."

Simon turns from the whoosh of the portal, wincing as his stomach rolls. He chuckles and shakes his head. Just _watching_ Magnus leave through a portal makes him feel queasy, not to mention when he has to go through one himself. Simon figures eventually he will be able to successfully navigate his way through a mystical doorway, without feeling like he's been on a rollercoaster possessed by the spirit of a deranged clown.

The apartment is abnormally quiet. Simon hasn't been here alone before. It's a sign of his newfound camaraderie with Magnus, Simon supposes. Magnus trusts him enough to leave Simon by himself while he whisks off to London to retrieve a rare ingredient for a client's potion. 

The trust is there. The trust is real.

Even if Magnus implicitly stated he'd only be gone for three minutes, maximum.

He steps over to a large shelf filled with glass jars and other odds and ends. Simon is part of this shelf now. Well, at least a lock of his hair nestles ever so safely in the jar labeled "Vampire Hair". With a smile and soft hum, Simon's eyes meander over Magnus's stock.

It's been a while since he's been in a mood for singing or writing any new music. The tune is unfamiliar so he goes with it, closing his eyes to fully embrace the melody into his soul. He's just about ready to pull his phone out and start recording the tune when he's abruptly startled by a hand gripping his forearm.

"Shit!" he yells and opens his eyes wide.

The sneer on Raphael's face is menacing, more so than usual.

"What are you doing here, Simon? Where's Magnus?"

"Dammit, Raphael. You scared the crap out of me. He had to go to London. He'll be back in a couple minutes."

"That's the second question answered. Why are _you_ here?"

"I came to visit my friend."

Raphael rolls his eyes. "Try again?"

"Honestly, it's really none of your business - Ow!"

Simon is quickly escorted by the arm to the door before he knows what hit him. Just as Raphael makes a move to twist the doorknob, Simon slams his back against the door.

"Hey! You don't live here! You don't get to throw me out! Magnus invited me - Well, he invited me in when I showed up at the door. So...yeah...I'm invited."

Raphael exhales in obvious frustration but relents and gives Simon a little shove as he pushes away from the door.

"Okay, fine. But I'll wait here with you until Magnus returns. I'm not sure he knows about your bad habits of taking things that don't belong to you."

"What? I don't -"

Simon stops when he realizes from Raphael's glare that he's wearing one of his jackets.

"Well, I think I asked...didn't I?"

The look on Raphael's face screams a massively sarcastic, _Really?_

"Well, I meant to ask. I mean, it just looks so good on me, am I right?"

Simon turns to model the form-fitting, dark blue textured jacket.

"You have to admit it, right?"

The visible bob of Raphael's Adam's apple gives Simon his answer, even though Raphael says, "I admit no such thing."

One hour later has Simon itching to do something other than sit on the couch and stare at a vampire with a chip on his shoulder the size of Mount Rushmore.

"Where the hell is Magnus?" Simon mutters.

He begins to have the slightest sting of hunger. It's very faint but gradually the sensation grows until Simon feels like he needs at least a little something to take the edge off.

"Do you think Magnus has blood here?"

"What do you think?" 

"I don't know! I'm asking you."

The outburst seems to have an effect on Raphael. He turns his body on the sofa to face Simon. Even though they are on opposite ends, Simon feels like Raphael is right there, whispering in his ear.

"I'm sure he does, somewhere around here. If not, I'll go get you some."

"A bag, right? You're not going to grab someone off the street and bring them here? Kidding!" Simon quickly adds when Raphael's eyes narrow and his lips tighten in annoyance.

Simon has that look completely figured out. He's placed it upon Raphael's gorgeous face more times than he can count.

"No, seriously, Raphael. Thank you."

"I haven't done anything yet. Come on. Follow me."

Simon trails Raphael's footsteps to the kitchen. It's a very un-Magnus-like room. No pizzazz. Stark white. Utilitarian. But modern. Simon would be terrified to eat in here, almost like eating in a clinical atmosphere. Although, with what Simon's diet consists of now, a clinic would be the most sanitary. The only splash of color is a bowl of green apples sitting atop the large island.

"Cozy. Does he actually use this room?"

Raphael eyes the kitchen. "I think he may have forgotten to decorate here during his last move." 

He steps over to the refrigerator and opens the door. There is literally nothing in there. Nothing.

"So far, not so good," Raphael says and closes the door.

Crossing his arms, Simon glances over the bleak room. "Seriously, what is the point of this kitchen? I don't get it."

"Magnus can whip up a full-course meal with a snap of his fingers," Raphael says, backing up to the island. He reaches for an apple and picks it up, staring intently as if he wants to take a bite. "It's not really necessary to cook."

"Necessary?" Simon scoffs. "No, I guess cooking isn't necessary. Music isn't _necessary_ either. Nothing is really necessary except the essentials to keep us alive. But why are we alive if not to create something? To make something of beauty to feed our body or our soul or..."

He pauses, realizing how foolish he sounds. But it makes him think back to the little melody he found himself humming earlier. And long ago birthdays.

"Hey, you alright?" Raphael's suddenly standing next to him.

Simon nods. "Yeah, sorry. Just being sentimental, I guess. I remember baking a chocolate cake from scratch for my mom when I was fourteen. I really felt like I'd accomplished something. The cake was a little dry but it tasted pretty good. She couldn't believe I made it just for her. That I'd put so much effort into it. And love. That's how I feel when I write songs. Or when I used to write. I don't really do that anymore," he says softly.

The touch of Raphael's hand to his face surprises Simon. His body nearly folds into the gentleness.

"You're really pale. You need to feed. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Simon takes a seat on a white barstool and leans his elbows on the white island countertop. The dreariness of the room envelopes him like a thick, choking blanket. He takes a deep breath to settle himself, certainly not for the oxygen, and begins to search for the tune again in the dark recesses of his mind.

It's a song of longing, of wanting something just out of reach; a song of hope, acknowledging a deep need and taking the necessary steps to fulfill that need.

_I see who you are_   
_And want you anyway._   
_Because you see me._   
_The real me._   
_The me that I don't even know._

He hums the chorus, over and over, until he finally pulls his phone out and begins in earnest to record the song. It feels good, amazing even, to release the pent up emotions; to voice his hidden desire. A confusing thought of _who_ surfaces. He can't wait to get his guitar and really work on it.

The sound is nearly inaudible but Simon's keen hearing picks up on it immediately and he looks up to find Raphael placing a large grocery bag down on the counter.

"Did you go to Whole Foods to buy blood?"

There's that narrowing eyes and tightening lips look again.

Raphael carefully begins to extract the bag's contents, but not before he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and produces a bag of O negative.

"Mmm...thanks," Simon says and reaches for the bag.

With a small nod, Raphael continues to unpack and place items on the counter.

"What's this?" Simon picks up a small box of cocoa. "What the hell is this stuff?" Flour, sugar, eggs, vanilla, and various sorts of other things. "Are you...is this for a chocolate cake?"

"I just thought, if you wanted to, we could... _you_ could christen Magnus's kitchen."

"Whaaat?" Simon smiles. "Seriously, that is like the coolest thing ever. Well, maybe not _ever_ but...anyway. Yeah. Yes! Let's bake a cake!"

It shouldn't come as a surprise, but Simon quickly learns that Raphael is not to be trifled with in the kitchen. He's all about order and following recipes to the letter and constantly wiping down the countertop.

Simon's more of a _throw it all up in the air and see what sticks_ kind of guy.

They compromise until Simon decides he'd rather make cupcakes instead of a cake.

"I bought a cake pan, not a cupcake pan."

The image of Raphael buying anything in any store causes Simon to go into hysterics. 

"What is your problem?"

Simon's afraid he's offended Raphael and, although many times that _is_ his intention, this time it's definitely not. "I'm sorry, Raphael. It's so sweet of you to do all this. Really. I'm touched by the gesture. That you'd go to all this trouble."

"It just seemed like doing something mundane would bring up a nice memory for you. I don't know. It was probably not a good idea -"

"No! It's a great idea. I love this idea." 

It's rare for Simon to see Raphael's guard down, to detect a vulnerability. He finds it to be quite attractive.

The song suddenly pops into Simon's mind and he instantly realizes who it's about.

"Shit!" he says aloud.

"What's wrong?"

"Uh...I just realized...something..."

"What?"

"Um...we're missing an important ingredient."

"No, we're not."

"Yes. Yes! We need more flour."

Before Simon can even really think about it, and come to the conclusion that it's _not_ a great idea, he flings flour in Raphael's direction.

Raphael looks down in horror at his black jacket covered in white dust. "Are you insane?"

They look into each other's eyes. Simon's wide and disbelieving; Raphael's angry but yet not angry. There's a mirth and incredulous quality to the dark eyes. 

"Yes," Simon says, never flinching from Raphael's intense gaze. "I believe I am insane."

The scowl on Raphael's face morphs into the slightest of grins. It happens so fast Simon doesn't have time to process Raphael reaching for the bowl of batter. But he does feel the ooze of the chocolaty mixture running down his face after Raphael pours it over his head.

"Perdón."

"Yeah, you're gonna be!" Simon laughs and throws an egg at Raphael's head. He misses and it hits the refrigerator instead.

The War of Chocolate Cake Ingredients soon comes to an impasse. Goo and Grossness become the winners and Team Vampire the losers.

Yet Simon thinks - as he boldly leans in to lick a smidge of cake batter from Raphael's cheek - that he may be the winner after all.

There is a sharp intake of breath followed by a thundering voice in the kitchen doorway. "Oh, for fuck's sake! You two are in so much trouble!"

Simon and Raphael look at each other and grin.


End file.
